


Palace

by BloodandEarth (cloudsgrl)



Category: Persona 5
Genre: AkeShuake Secret Santa, First fic for this fandom, Fix-It, M/M, Metaverse (Persona 5), Persona 5 Spoilers, character exploration, might be continued, will take tag suggestions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-24
Updated: 2017-12-24
Packaged: 2019-02-19 21:20:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13132455
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cloudsgrl/pseuds/BloodandEarth
Summary: Goro tries to murder, to cut off the loose ends with a clean break, because he knows that if he tried to sever all ties and disappear from Akira Kurusu’s life, he would come crawling back time and time again. Murder was to save him, Goro tells himself, to save himself, to save themselves, to help Shido to get his revenge in the long run, to make thesefeelingsstop





	Palace

**Author's Note:**

> This is a gift fic for @kageroudazes on twitter!
> 
> I only received the remarks that you were not picky at all, and that you did not want any rape/trauma/gross shit, which offered a large range in what to do, but I had difficulty pinning down anything specific. I really hope you like your present! I might continue this 'verse later at another time, but this is what I could do for now.
> 
> Happy Holidays, everyone!

When he came to, his neck ached and popped, and his shoulders were tight. Eyes still closed, he rolled onto his back and felt his body attempt to realign itself after the tangled mess of limbs as he slept. His shirt felt stiff, like the one time he fell asleep while half-covered in instant ramen because he was so exhausted (he had learned to get more sleep in his life, but it didn't save that button up from the permanent stain).

With a groan he rubbed at his eyes, and felt the fabric of gloves wiping away rheum and dried tears from his face. He wasn't at home, as this did not feel like the horrible linoleum floors pretending to be tatami, nor was this his couch. He opened his eyes.

Goro Akechi was greeted with the sight of the abyss. Or rather, a distorted blue, navy, purple-black conglomeration that was the Metaverse. He had never been so tired to sleep in Mementos before, and the colors and shapes weren't quite right to claim to be such.

As he sat up, and peered around, he evaluated his body, and remembered - Phantom Thieves, the battle, his cognitive double, requesting/demanding that Akira Kurusu change Shido's heart, and his expected death there in the palace - and found himself at full health and stamina.

Loki and Robin Hood, however, were nowhere to be found.

With a shaky breath, Goro looked down, and realized he was standing on more colored nothingness - his feet were flat, as if against concrete, however he couldn't actually definitively say there was a solid plane beneath him. He was in the Metaverse without his weapons and without his Personae.

Static, loud screeching static sounded in his ears from behind, and Goro turned around to see a...television? Old, with dials, and antennae, the screen filled with static and a solid crack through the center of it. It didn't appear to affect the actual functionality, but why would a television be here of all places? As the only light in the immediate Metaverse, Goro drew closer. Curious, he fiddled with the antennae, just to see if anything would show up or change.

Occasionally a disjointed face would flicker in the screen, or the static would grow painfully loud. For a brief five seconds he saw what was possibly Loki looming behind another figure before losing him in the horrifically loud static.

His phone wasn't in his pocket, he did not have his briefcase. And the television did not appear to have any access to the news.

Drained, the former detective sat there on the ground-not-ground and wondered where to go from here. Was this hell? Was this his fate, doomed to be stuck here in the Metaverse for however long with only this singular television that he couldn't even actually control? How long had he been in here? How long had it been since that fateful moment in Shido's palace?

 

He sat there, in the light of the television, and wondered what Akira Kurusu and his team of thieves were up to. Did they succeed in changing Shido's heart? Were they enjoying their winter? Goro struggled to even let himself think it, but--

Did they even remember he existed? Did anyone?

Society was cruel, even when not trying to be. If someone wasn't talked about or seen in media, that person would disappear from people's perceptions. Out of sight, out of mind. Was that him now? Doomed to never be remembered or thought about?

Goro breathed.

Goro thought.

Goro adjusted the antennae some more.

There wasn't really anything else he could do unless he dared walk away from the television and head in a random direction. Would he find anything else? Would Shadows happen upon him and demand battle? What happens when one is stuck in the Metaverse too long?

He sat and watched the television, moving the antennae intermittently, passing what seemed to be time staring and listening to the static.

Static.

Static

Static Static STATIC static Akira. Akira Akira static STatiC **STATIC** static.

Static.

Mementos.

Static.

Robin Hood surrounded by shadows.

Goro jolted back from the television, falling onto the ground-not-ground. Robin Hood wasn't on the screen anymore, but the image was steady, clear. The crack no longer visible in the screen. And the video was of a... an orphanage? Why an orphanage? An orphanage in the Metaverse made no sense as a palace, based on the information he had.

Why would an orphanage be someone's world?

The screen flickered again, static slowly filled the air, and the television, with a static hum, flickered off. Goro was surrounded by the darkness in the nothingness that was the Metaverse. Reluctantly, Goro turned around and searched for something, anything to distract him.

How much time had passed in the Metaverse?

Staring into the nothingness, possibly disassociating as the steadily appearing not-shadows and shadows and Shadows moved into his sight. Eventually, slowly, he blinked, and a recognizable shape formed before him, in reds and blacks, a creepy grin imposed on the permanent mask that was his face.

"Ah--" Goro attempted to clear his throat, not expecting the rasp and scratching that occurred. "Arsene."

The Persona nodded in greeting, black wings spread wide.

"What are you doing here?" Goro asked, feeling childish immediately for asking. Akira would not have sent Arsene to look for him when he should be focusing on Shido. Akira had too many things to focus on, he wouldn't possibly --

Arsene gestured deeper into the Metaverse. "I've been asked to guide you."

Guide? "To where?"

Arsene flicked his wings. "Does it matter?"

Goro looked down and shook his head. He could probably wander on his own in any direction and he would never encounter anything else. But at least with Arsene, a persona he vaguely, briefly, maybe possibly at one point trusted, Goro had a chance of encountering someone else. "It does not."

"Come." Arsene floated backwards before slowly leading tired Goro. As far as Goro could tell, they were heading in a straight line, but there were moments that he felt as if they were climbing an incline, or carefully making their way down a hill. Arsene never paused in his movements. He never glanced back, and yet stopped when Goro struggled to keep up.

Eventually, Arsene stopped, and Goro stared at the building that loomed before him. Did all orphanages feel the same: dull, drab, lifeless, and filled with children? The orphanage he lived in was very similar to this building, with the high walls, small windows, small and polite phrasing on the outer perimeter asking for visitors only at certain times of the week.

Goro looked at Arsene, the gentleman thief still floating nearby. “Why are we here?”

“Does it matter?” Arsene said.

“Yes.”

“You will find what you seek inside there.”

“The orphanage?” Goro questioned. Arsene’s wings fluttered, and the Persona was gone. Goro could either move into the grounds of the Palace or attempt to make his way back to that broken and abandoned television; there was no guarantee he would find it once more.

Goro stood there and thought, and thought some more, and then stepped forward. He entered through the main gate, not acknowledging the blurred visitors hours on the wall. The yard was cracked concrete, and superfluous trees with no leaves or shade.

The front door, when he tested it, was bolted shut tight. He circled the building. There were no visible access points outside, nor were the windows large enough for him to attempt to climb in that way. If he wanted entry, he had no choice but to knock on the front door.

Did he want to chance triggering some Shadows? Still without a Persona, still without weapons... he had no method to protect himself if things were to turn out horribly wrong. 

He knocked, and after a clammer of locks, the door swung open.

“Akira?!” The casually dressed thief made eye contact, and Goro quickly realized, no, this was not Akira. This was a shadow, a cognitive version of the true Akira Kurusu. His eyes were dull, lifeless, but almost everything Goro could recall about the younger teenager was the same: the wispy, curly hair, the unnecessary glasses, the casual stance he stood... Even while Goro felt disappointment at the lack of real world Akira, a small part was pleased at least this Akira looked like he remembered.

“Ah, Akechi,” Akira’s voice was slightly higher, breathier, just enough to make it more apparent he was not the person he appeared to be. “I was wondering when you would arrive! I have been waiting for you.”

“...You have?” Goro asked, unable to hold back the flinch as Akira reached forward and grabbed his arm. “Why?”

“Why wouldn't I?” Akira asked, stepping lightly in the building, his steps not echoing, not causing reverberations. It only solidified the thought Goro had before: This was not his Akira. “I knew you'd come here, it was only a matter of time.”

The hallways were plain, bland, with sections of the wall slightly less faded, like signs or posters were previously hung up and had been torn down or removed. They walked through entryways, small cordoned off sections until Akira paused outside of a doorway.

“Here we are!” the younger boy chimed. This cognitive version of Akira was far more energetic than the real. Goro always thought of Akira as pensive, plotting, with occasional moments of passion or energy when the moment suited. Did it now? “Your present!!”

Goro stepped back. “I don't believe I deserve a present. Completely unnecessary, Kurusu.”

Akira holds out a hand to Goro. “Come on, I worked hard on this for you.” His smile quirked into more of a smirk, “We never got to celebrate you joining the team.”

“That's unnecessary.” Goro said, watching as Akira’s smirk distorted, twisted, and felt his own stomach turn in disgust. Nausea hit like a punch in the gut, and the building warped.

He did not need to enter the room; it engulfed Goro and cognitive Akira, and Goro found himself sitting in front of a shadow audience, Akira sitting across from him with cue cards and that manic grin.

What? What was happening? Where did the television studio come from? This was an orphanage wasn’t it? (Goro couldn’t confirm, as Akira only lead him through hallways but no actual bedrooms or housing were shown.)

And as he watched, Akira shifted and changed, and then there were two. Akira and Joker. Both sitting before him, both mental cognitive versions portrayed as two different people. 

_"The Fool Arcana does not mean that it can be taken lightly. The Fool is number zero. It is the void from which all other things begin."_

Joker. Bold, courageous, cunning thief Joker that had only evolved into a more terrifying being as time went on, as his skills grew. One who took to the void of the Fool so well no one but Akira himself - Goro could only imagine - knew the full reach of his web. He was the true wild card, the one who played to everyone’s strengths. The depth and imagination he could draw upon to summon was _staggering_.

And Akira! Quiet, loyal, understanding. The only one of the Thieves that had chosen **him** , went out of his way to spend time with him. Not Sakamoto, not Takamaki, but poor lonely detective Goro Akechi. So many years wanting to be acknowledged, so many years of constantly having to listen to how much of a waste of space he was, on how untrustworthy orphans are. What would it have been like to receive that attention years ago instead of two years too late?

If only they had met sooner. Maybe Akira would have sided with Goro, maybe Akira’s acknowledgement would have prevented the numerous mistakes that led up to recent events. 

There was a reason Akira was Joker, was the Fool, was his opposite; there was a reason Akira Kurusu won. The Fool that did his job so well not even the rest of the Thieves knew the full extent of his work.

The two masks were so tightly wound together, and Goro knew now, that if he had gone and explained everything to them, to him before it got this far, Akira would not need much information to move forward to stop him.

But it was hard. So very hard. How do you start that conversation? How do you tell the person who worked so tirelessly to pretend to care, the person who actually listened for once? How do you tell the man who was so close to you that it feels like ripping out the veins in your body just thinking about never seeing him, or hearing him, or just being close to him again? How do you do something like that?

\-- _Goro tries to murder, to cut off the loose ends with a clean break, because he knows that if he tried to sever all ties and disappear from Akira Kurusu’s life, he would come crawling back time and time again. Murder was to save him, Goro tells himself, to save himself, to save themselves, to help Shido to get his revenge in the long run, to make these_ feelings _stop_ \--

Goro wondered what it said about him that Akira/Joker didn’t wait for him to gather the courage to visit LeBlanc. That Akira/Joker/Fool hunted him down in Shido’s Palace with the rest of the Thieves like hunting a rabid canine. It’s seeing his heart in human form standing opposite himself, catching his breath, making the emotions swirl and fester and explode into revelations and hidden tears.

Joker’s face was stone still though he did not look angry. Goro’s a coward, really, despite everything he’s done, all the other possible bonds he’s cut, because Akira Kurusu is **important**.

He is the one who chose him, that believes in possibilities, in pursuing Justice even when others doubted. That Goro had to explain he tried his own way and lost sight of the light - road to hell is paved with good intentions - that they cannot be together was agonizing.

It seemed like no time at all before he summoned Loki, revealed the persona a god gifted him, the one he had all along - ignoring Robin Hood, ignoring the bond connected to Joker that screamed - before he’s surrounded on all sides. It was so unfair.

In the end, Goro didn’t have to say anything, not anything that wasn’t true. Goro was certain that Akira heard what he wanted to say. Goro sat in his blood, in the water for what seemed like days as the steadily rising liquid pulled his blood from his body. Akira’s confirmation ends up being the thing that solidifies the bond on his end.

And now Goro is here, in the Metaverse, in a Palace of his own mental design, speaking to two very different versions of the same person - Akira and Joker - and realizing what could have been.

“Joker. Kurusu.” Goro said. “Did not expect to see both of you here at once.”

“Apparently you do not understand the merits of having separate personalities as a phantom thief.” Joker gestured, and sprawled on a chaise lounge that appeared in the room. 

Kurusu sat down more gingerly, but linked an arm with Joker. “I’m honest. I speak my mind, and I don’t hold back. It’s sneaky people like Joker who are the troublemakers.”

A pressure built in the back of Goro’s head, air tickling the small hairs on the back of his neck. “But you are the same person...”

“And we recognize that.” Kurusu agreed. “However we also recognize that one person can have different masks, different versions of themselves that they share with people. Most of the thieves know about Akira, and they know about Joker.”

Joker pulled on Kurusu’s hair, lightly tugging on the other’s bangs. “What they do not understand is that the Akira they know differs between the group. For Ann I listened to her concerns, helped her work through difficult decisions. Yusuke required me to guide him in hopes of triggering inspiration. Ryuji involved creating and supporting the track team.”

“It’s tiring being Akira Kurusu.” Goro remarked. Kurusu nodded, and leaned into Joker’s arm. The pressure turned into a steady humming. “I suppose I did not help with that.”

“No, but you certainly added some intrigue.” Joker chuckled. “Before you started appearing frequently in my day, I was juggling school work, work, and social obligations. You arrived and gave me mind games, mystery, and honesty.”

Goro breathed.

Goro thought.

Goro stared at the two entwined _cognitive_ Akiras.

Goro paused. “You two... you two are saying only what I want to hear.” The two did not refute his claim, and stared at him with those eery golden eyes. “Are you...”

“Ask us.” Kurusu stated.

“Ask us.” Joker demanded.

“Are -- Whose palace is this?”

“Don’t ask questions you don’t want the answers to, Goro.”

Goro closed his eyes, and fought the instinctive urge to respond in a negative fashion. “Then if you are my mental cognitions of Akira, then where is myself?”

Kurusu and Joker stood up, with Joker’s arms slung over Akira’s shoulders. “Follow us.” The two exited the room, murmuring to each other.

The building, the orphanage, the palace spun before them. The halls shifted, and this time Goro recognized the dingy yellow walls, the grime in the corners. This was _his_ orphanage. This was his hell from the moment his mother died until he gained the opportunity to escape.

And this--

Goro stood in the doorway, watching as the two Akiras separated to surround the cognitive Goro Akechi. He was dressed in what may have been a bespoke suit, his hair carefully coiffed into a respectable style. His face was gentle, but his yellow eyes were wild, manic.

“Ah, Goro,” Shadow Goro grinned, his smile showing just a little too much teeth. “It’s so good to see you! I was wondering when you would realize where you are. Welcome to your palace.” Joker stood behind the shadow and to his left, watching Goro with unwavering eyes. Akira appeared to plaster himself to the shadow’s arm, also watching Goro.

Goro crossed his arms over his shirt, the texture reminding himself of how utterly gross he felt, especially in front of this well dressed version of himself. “Hello. I wasn’t aware that Persona users could have a palace.”

“They can’t.” All three cognitions stated.

“But you don’t have a persona, do you?” Joker teased.

“And why would Akira and Joker be represented in my thoughts? I could understand if it was Shidou but...”

“Shidou? The one who came up with the Detective Prince? The one who you can reasonably track all your problems to? The one who ordered you kill Akira? Why would we think of him?” Shadow Goro spat. “Akira is important. Joker is important. They accepted us when others only pretended. They offered us comfort and a listening ear when others demanded and stared and only forgot us. We had freedom with Akira and Joker; freedom we only dreamed of!”

Goro shook his head. “No... Others supported us in the shadows. There were more than just fans here and there.”

“Oh, yes, that’s right. I’m the one who can’t do anything alone. I can’t win by myself. I have to lie and cheat to succeed. I’m pathetic. But I don’t care about that! I just want someone to accept me, to acknowledge me.” Shadow Goro sneered. “It’s bullshit.” He pulled Akira closer, and his ugly expression relaxed into something Goro was uncertain on classifying. Disgust and something worse built in his chest. His head pounded, his eyes burned, but Goro could not look away. “But Akira--Akira gave me attention when I asked for it. Akira listened and understood. Akira accepted me.

“And here,” Shadow Goro reached up and removed Akira’s glasses, “Here I don’t have to fight for his attention. Here it is just him, and Joker, and me. It’s all I could have ever hoped for.” Shadow Goro pulled Akira close, almost nuzzling against his cheek. “And I never have to leave, I never have to give this up.”

“I’m not like that!” Goro yelled. “I don’t crave attention so desperately to trap Akira here! I’m selfish, I know, but I don’t want to steal him from the world!!”

“No..? You don’t want to claim all his time and have the others beg for whatever scraps you allow?”

“No!!” Goro squeezed his arms tightly, fingers digging into his sleeves. He trembled in place. “Every moment Akira gives me is a gift! I don’t want to _force_ him to like me, to acknowledge me. To do so would make me no better than Shidou, or any of the others. I want... I want him to respect me. I want others to respect me, but I know better than to demand it.”

“But I do.” Shadow Goro said. “I want all his time. I want all his attention. I want him to give me everything, and then give me more when I ask.” His hand reached around and tangled in Akira’s curly hair and tugged, tilting Akira’s head back. “I want to cover him with my marks. I want him to know I own him, that he’s nothing without me, and I without him.” He lowered his mouth to Akira’s throat, nipping at the skin. Goro didn’t dare look at Akira’s face, terrified of what expression he might see and how it might affect him.

“That’s unreasonable!”

“But that is what I want!”

Goro stammered and shook his head. “No. I refuse to compromise on this. This isn’t even the real Akira! Akira Kurusu would not just lay back and take whatever we give him. He would fight us, he would make us work for it. I... I...”

Joker stared hard into his eyes. “You...?”

“I don’t want Akira if he’s only going to lay down and take it! I want the challenge. I want the fun of the chase. I want him to be just as invested as I am. I want to redeem myself, and make him proud of us and how far we’ve come.” Goro said.

Shadow Goro let go of Akira, and the cognitive teen fell backwards and disappeared into the Metaverse. Shadow Goro and Joker remained standing there, in the room Goro shared with three other boys throughout his middle school years.

“You know, for a wild card, I was not expecting this.” Joker remarked.

Shadow Goro stepped up, and held his hand out for a handshake. “I appreciate your honesty, after all of this lying.”

“I had no other option,” Goro admitted wryly. “Who knows how long I’ve been thinking about this.” He took his Shadow’s hand, and watched as the other disappeared into dust motes before facing Joker. “Do I have to worry about the Palace collapsing?”

Joker smiled his signature grin. “Nah, you didn’t steal a treasure, but you accepted one of the darkest parts of yourself. If you check now, you’ll find you have a persona once again.”

“And you? Why do you still linger?” As Joker mentioned, Goro could feel it, feel him. After so long, it was odd having the presence in the back of his mind lingering there and watching. C. Auguste Dupin, huh? Quite a large pair of shoes to fill.

Joker adjusted his gloves and shrugged. “You tell me, Goro. I am a figment of _your_ mind.”

Goro sighed.

Goro wondered.

Goro hoped.

“May I ask a favor?”

“No guarantee I can assist, but what’s up?” Joker stepped closer, leaned forward, eyes glinting.

“Can you guide me out of the Metaverse? I... I think I’m ready to head home.” Goro adjusted his sleeves, brushing out the wrinkles from his panicked clenching.

“Where’s home, Goro?” Joker stepped even closer, face leaning too close. Goro could feel the cognition’s breath on his face. “Is it that empty and tired apartment Shidou bought? Is it the orphanage? Is it the alleyway you used the Metaverse Navigation App in?” His curly bangs brushed against Goro’s own forehead, and Goro’s vision was obscured by the mask. And yet he would not step back, would not step away. He had nothing to fear from Joker.

“I’d like to see the real Akira Kurusu just once more.” Goro smiled. “I think it’s time I actually said what I meant, and not just when tensions and emotions were high.”

“Oh?” The amusement in Joker’s voice was easy to hear.

“If you’d kindly take me to LeBlanc, or somewhere nearby at least, I would greatly appreciate it.”

Joker pulled back and pouted. “I had hoped you’d stay here with me. I had all these plans, you see...” he tucked his hands in his pockets and shook his head. “Thought that maybe, finally, I’d get a kiss from you, and here you are, focused on your real Akira. Such a shame.”

Goro felt the warmth of a blush move far too quickly across his face. “It would not be right. It would be like I’m stealing it, and you would only kiss like how I would” his blush deepened, “how I would imagine it, not how Akira actually does.”

Joker raised his hands, and rested them on Goro’s shoulders. He stepped closer, and pulled Goro into an embrace. “Then a hug will have to do.”

Goro gingerly returned it. As seconds went by, he slowly relaxed, and hugged Joker tighter, pulling him closer, and buried his face in Joker’s shoulder.

“You know where to find me, Goro.” Joker pulled back, smiled softly, smiled like Akira -- which was like a sucker punch in the gut of a reminder exactly how the two were the exact same person -- and shoved Goro away.

Goro fell back, hands reaching panicked toward Joker who peered down and watched him fall

down

down

down

Until he stopped.

Goro woke up.

His neck ached and popped, and his shoulders were tight. Eyes still closed, he realized he was propped upright against a wall and possibly a garbage can. His shirt felt stiff, gross, and probably covered in dried body fluids.

With a groan he rubbed at his eyes, and felt the fabric of gloves wiping away rheum and dried tears from his face. He was outside, possibly somewhere in Shinjuku based on the noises coming from outside the alleyway.. He opened his eyes.

Goro Akechi was greeted with the sight of an alleyway. Or rather, a heavily graffitied wall, covered in phrases and poorly drawn figures.

As he peered around, he evaluated his body, and remembered - Phantom Thieves, the battle, his cognitive double, requesting/demanding that Akira Kurusu change Shido's heart, his expected death there in the palace, and meeting his Shadow - and found himself at full health and stamina.

C. Auguste Dupin was there, lurking in his mind.

With a shaky breath, Goro stood and checked for his wallet and identification card. With both still on his person, he checked for his cell phone. He noted immediately the battery was almost dead, and then looked at the date.

There was still time to make things right.

LeBlanc was lit up brightly, the sound of the Thieves having a rambunctious conversation inside. He picked out their voices, hearing the chiding from some, and loud rebukes from others. Akira was quiet, or at least not speaking as loudly as everyone else.

Goro breathed deeply, and opened the door.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I did not turn the sign over...” Soujiro’s paused, recognizing him, and the others were quick to follow. The cafe went silent, everyone turned to face him. Goro was able to meet a couple gazes before lowering his eyes.

“I am sorry to intrude.”

“Akechi,” one of the girls whispered, and some movement came from the booths.

“I just,” Goro forced out, feeling the words getting caught in his throat, in his head. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted to say, only that it needed to be said, here, now, or it would never come out. “I just needed to...”

A hand touched his sleeve, another came up to touch his jaw. “Goro...” Goro looked up, met Akira’s stare, and felt the younger teen pull him into a hug. Goro carefully, fearfully, moved to reciprocate the hug. It was so much better than he hoped and imagined. He felt a dampness seep into his shoulder. “I am so glad you’re okay.”

Goro nodded, and hid his face. He too was undoubtedly crying. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”

Akira just pulled him closer.

“Welcome back, Akechi.” 

**Author's Note:**

> Goro's new Persona (which he doesn't get to use in this fic, sadly) is C. Auguste Dupin, a Detective character created by Edgar Allen Poe. I picked him because Dupin is not a professional detective and his motivations for solving the mysteries change throughout the stories he appears in.
> 
> A couple songs that really influenced writing this one-shot (possibly to be continued) are BTS's "Spring Day", and Yiruma's "The River Flows in You".


End file.
